


Barba's Babysitting (previously "Barson fic #2")

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Emotions run high when Olivia returns home to find Rafael, rather than Lucy, babysitting Noah.





	Barba's Babysitting (previously "Barson fic #2")

Benson had barely gotten the door unlocked before she pushed her way into her apartment, saying, “Lucy, I am so sorry.” She unclipped her badge and set it with her keys on the table. She headed toward the living room, unbuckling her holster, but she froze when she caught sight of the couch.

Her surprise quickly gave way to a familiar flutter in her stomach. It was a feeling that she had only ever felt around one person.

He was on the sofa, his legs stretched before him, ankles crossed. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar—she could see his suit jacket and tie draped over the back of a kitchen chair—and his head was tipped back against the cushion. One elbow was on the armrest, supporting Noah’s head. The boy was curled on Barba’s lap, his head on Barba’s arm and his face turned toward the man’s chest, sound asleep. Barba’s other arm was curled protectively over the boy, and Benson felt unexpected tears burning in her eyes.

She could hear their peaceful, mingled breathing over the soft sounds of the television, and she didn’t want to wake them. For a few moments, she allowed herself the luxury of fantasizing about things she usually kept buried in the back of her mind.

He could lift his head, his eyes lighting at the sight of her, his lips curving in a slow and sleepy smile. He could casually lift his arm, inviting her over, and she could sit beside him, drawing her legs up, curling into the warmth of her family as Barba’s arm settled around her. She could turn her face up for his kiss, a kiss that would hold all the promise of a lifetime together.

She gave her head a shake, alarmed by the turn of her thoughts and, even more, by the ache of longing in her stomach. She cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders, composing her wayward thoughts so that he wouldn’t see her emotions. She removed her gun and put it on top of the bookcase, then moved quietly toward the couch, not wanting to alarm them.

“Rafael,” she said, softly. She wasn’t sure he would hear her, but his eyes opened and he lifted his head.

He blinked, looking down at Noah, seeming surprised to see him. His gaze slid back up to hers, and she could see the confusion of sleep clearing from his eyes. One side of his lips quirked in a sheepish little smile. His dark hair was mussed, and she suddenly imagined seeing him—just like this, with the crooked smile and the messy hair and the wrinkled clothes—every morning when she opened her eyes. The idea was bittersweet, and she quickly shoved it down.

“Liv,” he said. His voice was low, husky. “Everything alright?” he asked, and his gaze, as always, was too perceptive.

“What happened? Where’s Lucy?” she asked in return. She pulled her jacket off and put it on the back of the recliner.

“She had a family emergency,” Barba said. Before she could ask, he lifted his chin to cut her off and, his voice still low, said, “Everything’s alright, she called a while ago, said she’ll talk to you tomorrow. Your phone must’ve died?”

“It did. And by the time I realized how late it was—Well, anyway, I just wanted to get here,” she said, smiling at her sleeping son.

“You okay, Liv?” Barba asked.

She let out a breath and forced a smile. “Fine, just tired. Did she call the precinct?”

“She saw the news, knew you had your hands full. She didn’t want to bother any of you, so she called me.”

“Friday night, you didn’t have any big plans?” she asked. It was a joke, but she wanted to call the words back. She had no business asking questions to which she didn’t want an answer.

He smiled, but it was obligatory; his eyes were serious as he regarded her. “Was it as bad as it looked?” he asked, quietly, nodding toward the TV.

“Worse,” she said, with a little shake of her head. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should,” he suggested. When she opened her mouth, she saw him raise his eyebrows and his chin, and she knew that he was preparing his counter-argument before she’d even answered. She knew his every expression.

Before she could speak, Noah stirred and, looking up sleepily, said, “Uncle Barba? Is Mommy here?”

“Right here, sweet boy,” Benson said, starting forward. Barba shifted and drew his legs back to stand, but she said, “It’s alright, I’ve got him.” Noah turned toward her, and Barba helped lift the boy into Benson’s arms.

She avoided Barba’s gaze as their hands brushed, afraid he would see too much in her eyes. She kissed Noah’s forehead as she straightened with him in her arms, and started toward his bedroom. “Will you read a story?” Noah asked, yawning.

“Oh, honey, not tonight, it’s too late. We’ll read two tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” her son answered sleepily. “Uncle Barba already read to me.”

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, and managed, “That’s good, sweetheart. Alright, here you go,” she said as she lowered him into his bed. The blankets had already been turned back, and Noah was in his cozy flannel pajamas. His eyes closed as soon as his head touched the pillow, and Benson brushed the curls from his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Noah,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“Lovmommy,” he murmured as he slipped back into sleep’s embrace.

Benson straightened and turned. Barba was in the doorway, watching her, and her breath caught at the sight of him. Cursing her thudding heart, she walked toward him, keeping her expression controlled. As she neared the doorway, he turned a bit to let her pass but didn’t step away.

“Liv,” he said, when they were both in the doorway—Close, too close, close enough for her to smell the muted aroma of his cologne and see the golden flecks in his green eyes and hear the soft intake of his breath, close enough for her to feel his warmth without touching him.

For a moment, they stood there, looking at each other, and she realized something. Barba knew her better than anyone. No one had ever understood her the way he did, not any of her partners, her detectives, none of her boyfriends, not even her therapist. She’d told the doctor things that she’d never told anyone else, but he had still never _understood_ her the way Barba did. Barba might know a few less details about her life and thoughts, but he could read her emotions as well as she could read his. She trusted him implicitly, and that terrified her. She had trusted partners and other cops with her life, she had trusted her doctor with her secrets, she had trusted boyfriends with part of her heart, but she had never—not once in her life, that she could remember—trusted that _anyone_ would be completely honest with her.

Barba was the only person in her life that she knew, without a doubt, would never lie to her. Her faith in him made her feel vulnerable, and that was not a feeling that she could readily embrace.

She reached back and pulled the door partway shut, then turned toward the kitchen. “Want a drink?” she asked, thinking, _I need a drink_.

“You know what you need, Olivia?” he asked, following her.

She turned so he could see her roll her eyes. “ _Please_ , tell me,” she said. “And did my son really call you _Uncle Barba_?”

He crossed his arms and, standing with his feet apart, smirked at her. Her stomach did a not-unpleasant little squirm. “I thought it sounded better than Uncle Rafael,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. He thought it was funny, being Uncle Barba, but she didn’t have the words to express how much it meant to her that her son trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms.

“Talk to me, Livia,” he said, his voice a soft command.

“I’d rather not,” she answered, again heading for the kitchen before she could give in to other temptations.

“You saw horrible things today,” he said behind her. She pulled the bottle from the freezer without looking back at him. “You had a long day. You’re tired. Upset.”

“I already have a shrink, thanks,” she said, setting two glasses on the counter.

“Whenever you have a day like today, there’s one thing that keeps you going,” he said, and she closed her eyes, trying to breathe normally.

“My son,” she whispered with her back to him.

“Noah,” Barba agreed. “No matter how bad things get, you always know that it’ll be better as soon as you can get home and hold him in your arms.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“You hug him, you read to him, you talk to him about his day. Everything is good and right in the world for a few hours,” he said, and she couldn’t keep the tears from burning her eyes. “And then you tuck him into bed, kiss him goodnight,” he said, and she let out a shaky breath. “You come out here, and it’s quiet. Too quiet.”

She turned to face him. He would see her emotion; there was nothing she could do about that. She had no hope of hiding her feelings from him, not now. “It’s never too quiet when there’s a lawyer in your kitchen,” she said.

He ignored her sarcasm. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “You talk to Noah about his day. Who do you talk to about yours?”

“You, at the bar,” she said, spreading her hands.

“That’s not the same,” he answered. “You still come back here. It’s still too quiet.”

“I’m not always alone, Barba,” she said. “You know that.” She was both sorry and glad for the brief wince that flickered across his features.

“That’s not the same, either,” he said. He sounded subdued, but she knew he wouldn’t back down; retreat wasn’t in his nature.

“And who do you go home to at night?” she asked, lashing out in self-defense. He’d already gotten further behind her defenses than any other man. She couldn’t let him the rest of the way in. If she screwed this up—this, the healthiest, purest adult relationship in her life—she would never recover.

He regarded her in silence.

She held up a hand, anyway, and said, “You know what, don’t answer that. I’m not discussing my love life with you.” She turned back to the bottle, twisting the cap off with an angry flick of her wrist. She picked the bottle up but set it back down, with a clunk, and faced him again. “What do you want me to say, anyway?” she asked. “I push people away, is that what you want me to admit? Do you think I don’t know that? I know what my issues are, Rafa.”

“Tell me,” he said.

She shrugged a shoulder and tipped her head. “Tell you what’s wrong with me?” she asked, hating the tears that she knew were shimmering in her eyes. “What’s the point? If you want to leave, just leave, you don’t need my permission.”

But he didn’t want to leave, and she knew that. What he wanted was the one thing that terrified her the most.

When she’d had a tough day, she usually found him before heading home.

When she had a problem at work, he was the one to whom she turned for advice, whether he was trying the case or not.

When she was preparing herself to face the day, she met him for coffee so they could take a bracing walk together.

When she needed unflinching honesty, it was his counsel she sought—even when it was difficult to hear.

When her nanny needed to leave in a hurry, it was Barba who was there without hesitation.

When she was alone at night, after Noah was asleep, when the place was too quiet, whose face did she imagine? Whose knock did she want at her door? Whose crooked smile did she want to make her heart flutter?

It was too late, she realized. She hadn’t meant to let it happen, but he was already in, all the way in, behind her carefully-constructed walls. She could tell herself that she was afraid to risk losing his friendship, and that was true. Continuing to hide from the truth, just because she was afraid of having her heart broken, though, was cowardly. He wasn’t a coward; all she’d have to do was ask, and he would lay his heart before her. She knew that without question. He would throw caution to the wind, and consequences be damned, but only if she gave him permission.

“Thank you for staying with Noah,” she said, through numb lips.

She saw his throat bob as he swallowed. He might not be a coward, but he _was_ afraid, she realized, afraid that she would pull away. He knew her. He understood the turmoil churning within her. He knew it wasn’t easy, and he was just as afraid of losing her as she was of losing him. Still, he wasn’t going to back down and let her hide behind the relative safety of denial.

“It means a lot that you…were here when he needed you,” she said. She pulled in a shaky breath. “When _we_ needed…” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “You’ve always been there when I need you,” she said.

Barba had known, from the moment he laid eyes on her beside the sofa, that she was upset. He’d known that it wasn’t about work, not really. If her emotions hadn’t been so raw, so exposed, this conversation wouldn’t be happening, not yet—but it was still inevitable. They had always been heading toward this moment of truth. When Barba got Noah ready for bed, and read him a story before falling asleep with him on the couch, he wasn’t expecting to have this confrontation with Benson. That wasn’t why he’d come. He wasn’t any more prepared for this talk than she was. He hadn’t wanted it, not like this.

He was forcing the issue not because he wanted to, but because he knew it was what she needed. He didn’t have to say that. He would never do something that he didn’t believe was in her best interest, she knew that. She trusted him.

She loved him, with all the pieces of her damaged heart.

She wanted to tell him. He deserved to hear the words, but they were caught in her throat. They felt too big, too important. Her heart was stampeding, trying to burst from her chest. Her hands were shaking, her stomach burning.

“It’s just me, Liv,” he said, softly. He pressed his lips together and nodded, before repeating, “It’s just me. You and me. Have faith. In me, and in yourself,” he added.

“What if I mess it up?” she whispered. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if I push you away?”

“No one digs in their heels better than I do,” he said, with the ghost of a smile turning his lips.

“What if—”

“It’s just me,” he said, again.

“That’s the problem,” she answered. “You’re…too important to me. I’m…terrified,” she admitted.

“What are you afraid of?” he prompted.

“Hurting you,” she murmured. She felt like, somewhere inside of her, a dam was beginning to break.

“I’m tougher than I look,” he said, with a flash of his familiar smirk.

“How could this work?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse with unshed tears. “Our jobs—”

“We can figure it out,” he said. “I would never bet against you when you set your mind to something.”

“No one’s as stubborn as you,” she answered.

“No one will ever fight harder for you.”

That was a truth she’d already known, and she nodded. She took a deep breath and gathered up the shards of her courage, knowing that she couldn’t run away from the feelings welling up inside of her. She’d been running for too long, and it had cost her a lot of relationships. She’d been willing to lose every one of them in the name of self-preservation. Until now.

She walked toward him, and his lips parted as he pulled in a breath. His hands slid from his pockets as she approached. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t allow herself to hesitate. Their gazes were locked, and his eyes gave her the boost of courage she needed.

She kissed him, and his hand slid behind her neck, his fingers gentle in her hair. Desire bloomed hot in her belly, and she took hold of the front of his shirt to steady herself. Nothing had ever felt like this—nothing had ever felt so _right_ , and she pulled him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.

He made a sound in his throat, and then they were moving together until she felt a wall behind her back. She didn’t know where they were and didn’t care. She was dizzy from lack of air but didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to stop kissing him. He filled all of her senses until there was nothing else in the world. There was no room for fear or doubts, not here, not like this, not when his warmth was all around her and his strength was surrounding her and his taste and scent were enveloping her.

She had to break away from his mouth before she passed out, and she pulled back just enough to look at him. He had her pressed against the wall, but she was holding him in place by his shirt. His lips were parted, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His pupils were dilated, his eyelids heavy with desire. His hair was a wavy mess on his forehead. She wanted him so badly that she thought the desire might kill her.

But he deserved more.

When she pushed against him, he took a step backward, and she used his surprise to spin him until it was his back flattened against the wall. His hands went to her waist, to steady her as much as himself. She could feel the desire thrumming through his body, matching hers.

She caught his gaze and held it, because this was important. He needed to hear it, and she needed to say it. “Rafael Barba,” she said, and she could see her tears mirrored in his eyes. “I love you,” she whispered. She pulled in an uneven breath and smiled. “I love you,” she repeated, louder. She suddenly recognized the feeling spreading through her: it was relief.

His face split into a grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him again, unable to resist the call of his lips; now that she’d tasted him, she would never be able to get enough. His fingers were splayed over her hips, holding her close; their thighs were pressed together.

This time, he was the one who turned his head to catch his breath.

“And, you’re gonna save me a lot of money,” she said. He tipped his head to the side, smirking. “Babysitter and therapist,” she said, and when he chuckled, she felt his laugh all the way through her body.

She leaned her face forward, but he said, “Liv,” and she hesitated, searching his green eyes. “You can’t get rid of me, now,” he told her.

She smiled. “Promise?” she asked, but most of her fear was gone. She knew, standing in his arms, that they could accomplish anything together.

“I promise,” he vowed. “I am in love with you, now and forever. Everything I ever do will be for you and Noah. I give you my word.”

“Words can wait,” she murmured, pressing closer, her eyes dropping to his mouth. Beneath her gaze, his lips curved into a smile, a smile that they both knew she was helpless to resist.

 


End file.
